


Homecoming

by jellyfish_link (kibigo)



Series: The Legend of Ilia [1]
Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess
Genre: Alcohol, Arguing, Dinner, F/F, Friendship, Gay, Gen, Hyrulean Politics, Literate, Post-Canon, Ten Years Later, Unfortunately not smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-20
Updated: 2016-09-20
Packaged: 2018-08-16 07:07:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8092420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kibigo/pseuds/jellyfish_link
Summary: After seven years helping the reconstruction in Kakariko, Ilia returns home. Things Get Real Over Dinner, feat. Link(le), Mayor Bo. Set ten years after the events of Twilight Princess.





	

There was only one outfit that Linkle ever wore.

This is to say, there was only one outfit that Linkle ever wore _in public_ —she wore something different to bed, of course, and while her typical ensemble was being washed, and secretly (as one sometimes does) in the comfort of her own home—but such articles are hardly worthy matters of historical note. There was only one outfit that Linkle was _known by_ , and this was her Hero's garb, a uniform so brightly dyed and non-traditional in cut that it seemed straight out of a fairy-tale.

An attempt to list its components follows. These include: boots, leather, tall, a practical feature, keeping out water while traversing swamps or creeks; leggings, burlap, lined with cotton, unfortunately (as she had learned from her time in the mountains) not as warm as they appeared, but comfortable nonetheless; an undershirt, silk, white, high-collared, cozy; mail, an unknown alloy, light but surprisingly strong, golden in colour; gloves, leather, fingerless, utilitarian in design but featuring an ornate stitching regardless; an overshirt, Lincoln green, with a wide square neckline that cut across her upper breast; and finally, a matching hat, just as verdant, pointed in style but constructed with the curious intention of letting it flop every which way instead of remaining vertical as perhaps it ought. It was said to be an inheritance from a hero of ages past; yet, having witnessed with her own eyes the said hero's remains, she found it difficult to imagine his stocky build inside a garment which so neatly fit her slender frame. Perhaps, then, the garment was magic—indeed, as it had resisted all manner of wear and abrasion, this seemed likely to be the case.

Ten years prior, Linkle had singlehandedly led a charge against an onslaught of darkness incarnate without bringing along so much as a change of clothes. Her exploits as a warrior had earned her rank and admiration across the kingdom, and although she now mostly spent her days relaxing in the village of her childhood, her Hero's uniform was seen by many as a symbol of the courage and dedication that the best of mankind had to offer. Bearing this symbolic weight was no small burden, but it was one which Linkle carried with pride. So long as she appeared each day in her fabled attire, she was in everyone's mind indefatigable. Without it, well…

…Well. There was a reason she was having difficulty opening the door.

Before her time as Hero Chosen By The Gods, Linkle had been little more than a humble farmhand at the village ranch. She had grown up in rough-cut pants and sleeveless tunics—clothes that were designed for hard days of physical labour. Because of this, she had by this age (twenty-six) become quite convinced that those articles which one might typically expect to adorn a young woman—dresses, and the like—simply didn't suit her figure. Certainly, she thought, this must be true of the garment she wore now, a light blue lacy affair which she had purchased many years ago, in that tumultuous time following the war when she was directly in the Princess Zelda's service, out of the vague hope that once things had settled down a little, she might be afforded a normal life. And yet, here she was, hand resting precariously on the door handle, shaking with all the fear and anticipation of a young maiden about to embark upon her first date. Linkle wasn't known for her cowardice, but she couldn't put a sword to shattered expectations.

Nevertheless, the evening was progressing rapidly without her, and her mind had been made up long ago. Digging her nails gently into her palm and biting her lip one final time, she tugged the door open and stepped through the frame. A gust of dry autumnal air greeted her, quickly enveloping her in its cold embrace. In that instant, she became acutely aware of two critical facts: first, the extent to which her back was exposed, and second, that, as a product of her anxiety, she had been sweating profusely only moments before. She almost turned back then and there and called it a night.

But her moment's panic was interrupted fortuitously by the call of an old friend. “Link!” It was Colin, a sprightly young boy six years her junior but nevertheless one of her closest companions. He ran up to her and scrutinized her face closely. “Right. It _is_ you.” In his youth, Colin had been a rather timid boy, but he was now of that age when men start asking blunt questions and filling their heads with nothing but reflections of themselves, a nasty habit which (to be fair) Linkle's presence had done little to temper. “Where are you headed?”

“Hello, Colin,” Linkle replied weakly. Her attire wouldn't be worth more than a moment's notice for him, but there was no escaping now. “I'm afraid I can't chat long,” she said, “as I have business with the mayor over dinner. I was heading there presently.”

“Aye— But enough about that! What's with this getup!? You, of all people, dressed like you're attending a ball! I never thought I'd see the day—I almost didn't think it was you!”

Linkle sighed. That she was receiving so strong a reaction from _Colin_ certainly did not bode well for her future engagements. “Yes, well, it is a _formal_ dinner,” she told him, as was her excuse. The mayor had not specified as much, naturally, although she presumed dinners with mayors were the sort of thing one normally might be expected to dress up for. However, the mayor's daughter, Ilia, had just gotten back in town from seven years in Kakariko, and was sure to be in attendance. The two had been quite close in their childhood, and Linkle wanted to leave an impression.

“A _formal_ dinner, eh?” Colin rolled his eyes. “Our village has a population of… what? Fifteen? We don't _do_ formal.”

Linkle raised her chin adamantly at this declaration. “Perhaps _you_ don't,” she said. “Some of us are cut from a different cloth.”

“Oh _no_ , you're not pulling that Hylian superiority bullshit on me.” Colin waggled a finger. “I've seen you playing around in manure same as the rest of us.”

“ _Manure?_ ” Linkle shoved his shoulder. “I've seen _you_ in diapers.”

“Yes, well, I'd be _putting_ you in diapers right now if it wouldn't be making you late for dinner,” Colin shot back.

“Oh, yes, _dinner_. Speaking _of_.” Linkle was hardly eager to be on her way, but it would only make things worse if she was late. She reached up and ruffled Colin's hair. He was taller than she was, now, which she found more than a little freaky. “I had best be going,” she said.

“Riiiiight,” Colin said, brushing away her hand. “Wouldn't want to keep the fair maiden waiting.”

He knew her too well.

* * *

Linkle knocked three times.

The door was promptly opened by none other than Ilia herself, who gave Linkle a quick once-over with her eyes. “Link!” she said, amused, suppressing a giggle. “You look… nice.”

Linkle felt her face flush. “sry sry,” she stammered. “sry i knew this was a bad idea i look terrible in dresses im gonna home now kthnx by—”

She felt a hand grabbing her arm, and saw Ilia rolling her eyes. “Link, stop. I was being serious. You look nice.”

Linkle let out her breath and glanced up at Ilia's face. “…Thanks,” she said. “You too.” And she did. She was dressed more elegantly than Linkle could recall ever seeing her before, and Linkle was reminded of her time among the Hyrulean court. But some things never changed. Her dirty blonde hair was still cropped short—and more than a little unruly—and her eyes were the same shade of… well. Ilia turned and walked back into the house; Linkle followed her inside.

She found the dining room to be gorgeous; Ilia's touch, no doubt, as the mayor had never been much for aesthetic. The sun's final rays shone in through the window as the world outside descended into twilight; Linkle looked away. The table was set for four, but this was merely a formality—no-one would be joining them today. Candles flickered in its center, casting long shadows as Ilia took her seat at the far side. Linkle sat down opposite her.

“Father will be just a moment,” Ilia said. “He's just putting the finishing touches on dinner.” Linkle wasn't sure whether to be excited or terrified of this last tidbit of information—she had never tasted the mayor's cooking before. She mumbled something regardless.

The room descended into silence as Linkle struggled to think of a suitable icebreaker for someone she hadn't seen in years; Ilia, for her part, seemed none too bothered with waiting. Asking how long she had been back seemed the most logical first step; “Maybe two hours. Long enough to get ready,” came the reply, and with that the line of conversation ended then and there.

“How're things there?” Linkle wasn't about to give up, in any rate, and this seemed as likely a thread as any to promote discussion.

But Ilia just sighed and put her fingers to her forehead. “Well enough, I suppose,” she said. “The hot springs have managed to draw a few people in from the castle, so at least we aren't a ghost town any longer. We're all still living on Malo's dime, but a few more months and that should turn around.”

The conversation seemed to be wearing Ilia out, so Linkle merely nodded. “Yeah. Missed having you around.”

At this last comment, Ilia snapped, “Oh, don't give me that,” she said bitterly. “ _Three years_ I was ‘around’ while you were off gallivanting with the Princess Hyrule, and did you stop by to visit then? There was plenty of rebuilding to do here too, y'know.”

“Well, I'm sorry, but after _saving the kingdom_ you kind of end up conscripted into the royal guard!” This was old history; Linkle was surprised that Ilia had brought it up. “Don't tell me you're jea—”

At this moment, the mayor burst into the room, carrying in each hand an enormous plate of food. The conversation promptly came to a halt. Mayor Bo looked from one girl to the next with an amused expression on his face, chuckling lightly to himself. “Well,” he said. “I see you two have wasted no time catching up.” Compared to the women, he looked painfully underdressed, his muscular arms emerging from an oversized cotton tunic, his pants stained with equal parts grease, mud, and grass. He took a seat to Linkle's left, and the table shook with his weight as he sat down. “Food's ready,” he said. “We can talk as we eat.”

The meal was, to Linkle's surprise, delicious. Turkey and honeyed biscuits; pumpkin pie and apple cobbler; mugs of hot cider and bottles of wine—frankly, it looked a bit much for three, but recalling the mayor's appetite Linkle thought it best to hold her tongue. While it was an admirable suggestion, talking while they ate quickly fell out of the question, as the next thirty minutes passed without anyone uttering so much as a word.

On the thirty-first, however, Ilia pushed her plate aside and uncorked a bottle of wine. “So,” she said, filling her glass to the brim. “To business.”

“Right, right.” The mayor was far from finished eating, but he made a show of setting aside his fork and napkin. “Well. As I am sure you are both aware, we are nearing the end of harvest, and this means that our annual tribute to the royal family should quickly be brought into order. This year is also, lest you forget, the tenth anniversary of the Twilight Invasion.”

“Of course,” Linkle cut in. “So, we should put together something special, no?” Her mouth was full of pie, and she swallowed before continuing. “The past few years have been hard, and it would be an excellent opportunity to show how far we've come.”

“I disagree,” Ilia said, sipping her wine pointedly. “In fact, I take the opposite position. We should withhold the tribute from Princess Zelda and demand formal recognition from the royal family for our efforts during the war.”

“Are you out of your _mind_?” Linkle had been partway through a bite, and ended up spraying little bits of crust across the table. Ilia winced and took another sip from her glass. “You realize how that would look, right? Zelda would think you were in open rebellion!”

“You may have gotten a royal promotion, _Link_ —” Ilia was using her scolding voice. She _did_ have a good scolding voice. Linkle found herself blushing despite not feeling she had done anything wrong. “—but the _rest of us_ haven't received so much as a word of recognition from the castle. We were _all_ on the front lines… How many people did we lose in Kakariko? How many crops here in Ordona? And yet, did we receive _any_ assistance that winter? I swear, if it hadn't been for Malo we'd have all gone under.”

“Look, maybe you didn't _see_ Castle Town after the invasion—” Linkle had given up on eating—it wouldn't sit well with her now anyways. “Where was Zelda supposed to get this support from? The castle guard had been decimated!”

“She could have sent _you_.” Linkle's mouth hung open for a moment at this line—she didn't have an answer for that. Mayor Bo chomped down on a turkey leg to her left, thoroughly enjoying the conversation and thoroughly enjoying having no part in it. “You think you guys had it bad? Try rebuilding homes with Bulblins raiding your village every night! But, of course, the security of a few nobles was more important than the lives of the people putting the food on their tables!” Linkle had forgotten how stubborn Ilia could be; moreover, as was usually the case, she had a point. “Listen,” she said. “We're not asking for much. Just a little recognition for the sacrifices we've all had to make! Why is the idea of that so offensive to you?”

“It's not, I—” Linkle had a very bad gut feeling about this, but arguing with Ilia had never been her strong suit. “I just don't like the idea of being on Zelda's bad side, is all.”

“Oh, is she so _scary_?” Ilia drained her glass. “And here, I thought you were the Hero of Courage.”

“I am!” Frustrated, Linkle covered her face with a hand. “You want me to ask her, is that it?” This evening was not at all going how she had planned.

“She'll have a hard time saying no to Hyrule's Chosen Hero…” Ilia gave her a wink. “‘Specially in that dress.”

Linkle flushed. In the heat of the moment, she had forgotten she was wearing it. “Okay. Fine. Whatever,” she said, defeated. She prodded at the pie remains on her plate like a toddler who had just been assigned a particularly tedious chore.

“Perfect,” Ilia said, rising from her seat. She walked over and planted a kiss on the crown of Linkle's head. “Knew you'd come through for us. With that—” She turned, addressing the room. “—I think I'm off to bed.” She disappeared down the hall.

A heavy silence fell over the room, which Linkle was content to wallow in until the mayor rose and began collecting the dishes, startling her out of her stupor. She rose, bid the mayor her farewells, and departed into the night.

**Author's Note:**

> Hiya, Go here <3\. Thanks for reading!
> 
> This story started out as a rewrite of an old TLoZ:TP fanfic I wrote back in high school. The title, “Homecoming” is a reference to Ilia's return back to Ordon Village after her time in Kakariko, but on a more personal level it is also a reference to my return to Twilight Princess as a source of inspiration and fan works. I totally didn't intend this to be anything more than a brief oneshot—somehow, though, Hyrulian politics got mixed into it and now who knows! If you want to impress Ilia, you have to work for it, I suppose :P.
> 
> If you liked the story or have any questions, feel free to say so in the comments! You can also get at me on [my tumblr](https://marrus-sh.tumblr.com/), where the Asks are always open ;).


End file.
